


Clarification

by Twisted_Mind



Series: Kinktober 2019 Collection [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Dom Peter Hale, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Object Insertion, Spanking, Top Erica Reyes, pussy slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-16 15:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: “I told you the kitchen was off-limits. Was that in any way unclear?”In retrospect, probably not, but, well, “I thought it was a request!”





	Clarification

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY KINKTOBER! *throws confetti* I'm starting this one with some Steterica, because Triangulum and I are the only ones paddling this little rowboat, and I need to pull my weight. :P This piece mainly focusses on the Erica/Peter side of this triad. 
> 
> Thanks to Bunnywest and DiscontentedWinter for cheerleading and enabling!

When Peter said that she and Stiles weren’t allowed in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon, Erica was sure he’d been joking. Or, well. Maybe not joking, exactly, but making a request. One she was pretty sure he’d bend if she needed something, because Peter doesn’t give _her_ orders. Stiles is their girl, _she_ gets the orders.

As a result, she waves baby girl off when Stiles goes, “Don’t do it, Eri, he’s making Hale Family stew, he won’t want—”

She’s thirsty. She wants to grab a drink. Peter’s not an unreasonable monster, he’ll be fine with that.

Only, the way he snarls and immediately bends her over the counter sort of makes her rethink that. “Peter?”

“I told you the kitchen was off-limits. Was that in any way unclear?”

In retrospect, probably not, but, well, “I thought it was a request!”

She hears a drawer open, and the sound of Peter rummaging around in there. “Well then, allow me to clarify.”

Erica yelps when something connects with her inner thigh in a stinging _thwack_! “It,” _thwack_! “was,” _thwack_! “not,” _thwack_! “a request_.” Thwack-thwack_! Her inner thighs are hot and prickling in the aftermath of the stinging blows Peter’s delivered, but she’s also dangerously close to soaking her panties.

“Okay,” Erica pants. “I get it, but I was just coming in here to get myself a drink.”

Peter tuts, and slides a hand up her back to rest between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the counter. “Oh dear. You had two good options, and you took neither of them.” Peter’s voice has slid into that silky tone he uses when at his most dangerous, which is the only warning she gets before he lands a flurry of stinging swats to her pussy through her underwear.

Erica shrieks. It’s not really from pain—because, while the slaps burn, it’s a flash-in-the-pan kind of hurt. The kind that really just makes her wet and desperate. “Peter, please,” she whines, and she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.

He tuts again, and flips her skirt up before tugging her panties to one side. “You could’ve just apologized,” he murmurs, rubbing the implement against her slick folds. From the feel of it, it’s plastic, or maybe silicone. “Or, failing that, you could’ve just asked me for whatever you needed.”

Erica’s maybe a little bit ashamed of the fact that she never even thought of that second option. “I’m so—”

Her apology is cut off by a moan as Peter slides the end of the kitchen implement inside her. It’s a smooth, rounded handle, and it glides in easily, because it’s much too small to satisfy her. “Oh God,” she chokes. “_More_.”

Peter hums, pumping it in and out a few times, slowly, so it makes an obscene noise. “Mm, that’s right, darling. You might be Stiles’s Top, but you’re not the top dog in this house.” And then, just as suddenly as all this started, it stops—Peter takes away the tool (the weighted frosting spreader, she sees, and suddenly, the sting of it makes sense), and hauls her up off the counter before herding her out of the kitchen.

“Out of my kitchen.”

“But, I need—”

Peter chuckles, turning back to whatever it is he’s got on the stovetop. “Oh, I know you do, but I’m busy right now. Why don’t you go see if baby girl will take pity on you?”

Erica huffs, but goes and does just that.

She does _not_ pout when Stiles laughs at her. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://queerfictionwriter.tumblr.com/).


End file.
